


Endless

by ivarara



Series: other hk writing [9]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: i am so sorry i ctully made myself cry twice writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivarara/pseuds/ivarara
Summary: The Knight is failing. They already have failed. What's left to do? They give up, until a visitor arrives at the Temple.
Series: other hk writing [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558498
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Endless

**Author's Note:**

> tw for a lotta self-antagonizing thoughts, self-harm, suicidal ideation, stuff like that. PLEASE be safe!!

_You were once great, another voice rings in their head._

_You were once pure, but you faulted._

_You had hope; you had love. And that is where you failed._

_**_

_Who are they?_

They are the Hollow Knight. Protector of Hallownest. The vessel that sealed away the blinding light.

_Still, do you retain the title?_

The Knight did not know. They are no longer Hollow. They are filled with regrets, hopelessness, suffering, grief. Filled with sickly, pulsing Infection and Her.

_They are still a Knight, are they not?_

No Knight would allow this to become of their beloved kingdom. The Hollow Knight knows the Radiance’s influences have escaped their binds. What havoc has been wrought? How many lives, stolen into the dream-states? How many of Hallownest’s citizens now live with the mist of Infection in their heads, swirling and furling behind their eyes?

_Is it their fault?_

Is it? Is someone at fault for loving and hoping for the best of their world? Why did they hope and love? For so often those are cherished traits to behold, but now, they are the cause of the Knight’s suffering. If they had not hoped, had not loved, had not…

_No cost too great._

What was the cost? _Their life._ The Pale King had surrendered His own child to be a martyr for His kingdom. Did He care? Did He regret it? Did He think about his child, chained and restrained and tucked away in the temple for eternity? Hidden from prying eyes like some sort of mistake to conceal?

_No mind to think._

Ironic, is it not? The supposed non-existent mind that would leave them thoughtless is now the most prominent thing in their suffering. It twists words once said into malignant phrases, things that sting long after they had happened. Nobody remembers you, now, it sings. Your kingdom has abandoned you. 

They shake their head, rattling the chains they are bound in. Does the rattling disturb Her? They cannot find the energy to care.

No will to break.

They had a will, back then. It was unknown to the Pale King and others, but there was a will: a will to please, a will to serve, a will to save.

Now, they have no will to speak of. No will to live. No will to go on. No will, no hope. Just an ache that wishes for this to be over with, for something to happen, for someone to show up, something.

_No voice to cry suffering._

Before, their shouts were silent. They made no sound. The only way to tell it was happening was to observe.

Now?

It _screams_. Not a roar, or a shout. It is a scream of agony and despair, grating and twisted as it rips from their throat. How could this have happened? Why them? If they wept, what would their tears be? The dark, fluid Void, as it should be? Or the viscous, ill-colored brightness of Her influence?

They fall into a trance, one horribly familiar to them now. They stare blankly as their thoughts run awry. They dream of how things could have been. How things should have been. 

They do not notice the Temple doors creaking open. They do not hear the tiny patter of footsteps on the stone beneath them. They do not notice the tiny vessel in front of them, staring in what likely is shock and horror.

When the little vessel strikes the chains holding them in place with their nail, they notice. As the old, rusted chains chip and fall away, they notice the freedom they’re granted, suddenly. They collapse to the floor, catching themself with their remaining arm. They want to be thankful; they want to welcome this vessel and thank them for their mercy; they want--

**_They want to kill the trespasser._ **

It is not their own mind rousing this urge. These are Her urges, Her impulses driving its limbs. The Infection in their mask pulses, suddenly alive and adamant that they destroy.

**Draw your nail,** their thoughts demand. **Cut down this interloper. Or, perhaps, let them cut you down, and free me!**

They try desperately to hold back. This is a sibling, one who has bravely made the journey and met the requirements to get here.

Do they wish to kill the Knight? Out of malice or pity?

Do they wish to replace the Knight? Are they truly pure; are they up for the challenge?

They may be useless now, but they still contain Her. They cannot allow Her to escape. 

They must fight. 

Their long, slender nail is drawn and at the ready. The sudden weight of having to stand on their own two legs, one-armed and full of sick, unbalances them. They stumble, nearly fall again, but they catch themself.

The little ghost of a sibling stares at them all the while. Not reacting. Not thinking. Not speaking.

Time itself freezes, leaving the two of them to stare at mirror images of each other.

One, a look into the past: what they had been.

The other, a look into the future: a threat of what they could become.

_**KILL THEM, VESSEL.** _

Against their will, their nail raises and swipes at the little vessel. They dodge it expertly, and counter by dashing in for the Knight’s lanky legs and swiping.

But...these blows are not genuine. They are holding back. 

**More pity, just for you. Even they know you are weak and pathetic to behold, and know they do not need to use their full strength to bring you down. How pitiful.**

The Knight’s mind is in turmoil. Do they fight the vessel, to show Her that they are not as weak and pathetic as She thinks they are without Her? Do they succumb to the vessel’s onslaught, to prove Her words and truly fail?

No, no. They are not weak and pitiful. They are the Hollow Knight, and this little vessel should prefer death over replacing them.

So, they fight.

In earnest, they fight. They swing and swipe and slash at this newcomer.

But the blows do not land.

They are miscalculated, unbalanced. They truly are embarrassing to see. 

_Pitiful! Failure! Embarrassment! Reject!_

The anger swells up, making faux tears of Infection seep from their mask. Maybe She is right. Maybe they deserve to be slain.

Maybe they _are_ a failure.

With another resounding roar that bounces off the stone walls of the Temple, they give up. If they are to truly be slain here and now, then it will be by their own hands. She will not kill them. This vessel will not kill them.

They will do it themself.

Their nail, once purified and a token of the vessel’s own purity and honor, plunges into their thorax. The pain makes them scream as the sickly Infection spills out from under their cloak. Again and again, it stabs through them. Their legs weaken; their arm trembles mightily.

_Give in,_ the little voice in their head begs. _End your suffering. You did not deserve any of this. It is His mistake_.

_NO,_ She bellows. _YOU WILL NOT BE YOUR OWN UNDOING._

She seems to sap their strength right from their limbs. No longer are they fighting of their own will.

She is controlling them.

The little vessel in front of them stops in their tracks, eyes wide as they watch in horror. Are they really surprised, though? The Knight was never going to win this fight in the first place. 

Now, their body moves not of its own volition. It is Her strength driving it, her will controlling it. It slams recklessly into the ground in attempts to quell the other vessel’s attacks. Still, they dodge expertly and weave between strikes. 

_End this,_ the body begs.

**_We are ENDLESS_** , she responds.

Another round of volleys is thrown, back and forth. It is almost like practicing in the Palace was.

Except these blows hit, strong and sure.

The vessel wants this to end.

They want it to end.

When even Her influence is not enough to push the body further, it slumps to the ground on its knees. Without thinking, the Knight picks up their discarded nail and goes to finish this job they had started.

_You were never enough._

_You had a mind that thought._

_You had a will that wouldn’t break._

_You had a voice that spoke._

_You were not pure, ever._

As they ready to strike the final blow on themself, nail poised and weak fingers wrapped around the hilt, the other vessel...stops. 

They do not strike the final blow.

In fact, they throw their nail down.

The Knight pauses. What is this? 

The little vessel’s eyes well over with inky tears that trickle down the contour of their tiny mask.. Their hands wave in front of their face frantically. They look back to the Temple’s entrance, as if expecting something.

The Knight’s arm fails and their nail clatters to the ground. Truly defeated. Slumped over, oozing Infection and Void alike.

They stare down at the other vessel. Are they mocking them? Drawing out the final moments? Do they feel regret, suddenly?

The Hollow Knight’s body slumps further over. Their life is draining from them, they can feel it. When will it end? Soon, they hope. They hope, they beg, they plead that this little vessel strikes once more. 

But the vessel does not.

They scamper closer to the Knight, gently take their mask in tiny, inky hands. Eye to eye, the Knight can tell.

This vessel does not want to slay them; does not want to replace them.

No, this vessel wishes to _save_ them.

Their tiny arms wrap around the Knight’s thin, strained neck as they grasp at the larger shoulders in their range. 

This vessel wants to help them. They want the Hollow Knight to recover.

The Knight feels their own tears trickle out of their mask.

They give in-- not to pain, not to torture, not to failure or disgust.

Together, they will fight. The Knight knows this. Together, they can defeat Her.

And this little vessel is the key.


End file.
